


This Is Not Book Club

by partypaprika



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's Eight
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 10:39:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15265701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partypaprika/pseuds/partypaprika
Summary: Daphne shows up at Lou’s place on a Wednesday morning while Lou is pouring herself some coffee. She lets herself in and then saunters over to the kitchen where Lou blinks blearily at her.“How did you get in?” Lou finally settles on.Daphne chews her gum a few times and then lifts up a key. “Swiped it last time I was here,” she says.“My my,” Lou says. “I see we’ve fully embraced the criminal lifestyle.”





	This Is Not Book Club

Daphne shows up at Lou’s place on a Wednesday morning while Lou is pouring herself some coffee. She lets herself in and then saunters over to the kitchen where Lou blinks blearily at her.

“How did you get in?” Lou finally settles on.

Daphne chews her gum a few times and then lifts up a key. “Swiped it last time I was here,” she says.

“My my,” Lou says. “I see we’ve fully embraced the criminal lifestyle.”

“I wasn’t sure how much of an open-door policy you had,” Daphne says, sounding extremely unapologetic.

“Yeah, we don’t have an open-door policy,” Lou says. “Because this is where I fucking live.”

“Cool,” Daphne says and then looks around the room. Now that the con is over, it’s gone back to its natural state of being—cases of liquor stacked around the room and an open box of motorcycle parts in one the corner. Of course, Debbie’s ridiculous clothing is draped over everything. She has a room of her own for fuck’s sake. And thirty-eight million dollars in the bank. One might think she could afford to buy a few hangers.

There’s also a large box of fake scratch off cards in the back that Lou keeps telling herself not to touch. Lou’s never been able to sit idle for very long.

“Want to get lunch?” Daphne says eventually, when it becomes clear that Lou’s said all that she needs to say.

Lou considers it. On the one hand, Daphne is inevitably going to want to talk about something stupid like her latest movie. On the other hand, Lou’s eyes could do a lot worse than looking at Daphne.

“Sure, yeah,” Lou says. “You’re paying.”

“Of course,” Daphne says, insulted, as if Lou has asked for confirmation that her newest project isn’t some B horror film. Hey, no judgment from Lou either way.

 

 

Daphne takes them to a place in the meatpacking district. It’s done up inside in that industrial warehouse style that makes Lou want to roll her eyes or pick someone’s pocket out of pure spite. But Daphne is subtly watching her for a reaction, so Lou raises an eyebrow and says, “Not bad.” Daphne instantly brightens.

There’s a line waiting around the block to get in. At least half of those people are texting rapidly on their phone, no doubt blogging about the experience, which Daphne ignores as she walks up to the front. Lou watches Daphne, wants to see how she plays it. Daphne flips her hair back and surveys the storefront like a general surveying their troops.

“Follow me,” she says and plunges through the crowd without a second thought. Each New Yorker in line—despite their initial inclinations towards anger—immediately moves out of the way once they see who it is. A hushed whisper wave of “It’s Daphne Kluger!” ripples past them.

Lou really does roll her eyes then.

Daphne swans in through the front door of the restaurant like she owns the place. Lou trails behind her, curious. And maybe Daphne does own the place, or maybe it’s the way that she grins charmingly at the hostess that does the trick, because they’re immediately seated in the back and a server is over and taking their drink order before Lou can even blink.

The restaurant is pretty silly, but the food is actually decent. Even better, Daphne keeps the self-congratulations to a minimum. Lou is almost impressed.

When they walk out of the restaurant, she says as much to Daphne who at first preens and then catches up to the rest. “Thanks, I guess?” Daphne says.

“Take what you can get,” Lou says. “I enjoyed it.” And Daphne does preen at that, so Lou waves her hand in a goodbye and starts heading in the opposite direction.

“Wait!” Daphne calls. “That’s it?”

“I’ve got a meeting,” Lou calls back. She doesn’t, but there’s no need for Daphne to know that.

 

Lou gives Daphne three days. She’s a little impressed when Daphne makes it five days, all the way to Monday of the next week. A cab drops her off when Lou is outside tinkering with her bike.

Daphne doesn’t say anything for a while, just watches Lou work. Lou keeps waiting for Daphne to make some inane comment. But, pleasantly, she…doesn’t. Once Lou’s finished and wiping off her hands, she acknowledges Daphne.

“How’s it going, jailbird-in-training?” Lou asks.

“Alright,” Daphne says. “Got any plans for the afternoon?”

“I’m supposed to go up and check out a bike,” Lou says. After a beat she adds, “Do you want to join?”

Daphne tries to play it cool and looks down to check out her nails. “Yeah, that sounds alright,” she says. Lou grins.

 

They ride up out of the city and Daphne’s pressed up tight against Lou, her warmth bleeding through Lou’s jacket. It’s Daphne’s first time on a bike—she hasn’t said anything, but Lou can always tell.

Daphne doesn’t do anything stupid or try to talk, so Lou lets herself lean back ever so slightly into Daphne. In response, Daphne splays her hands out further, letting the tips of her fingers press against Lou’s chest. It’s not Lou’s worst ride.

When they get there, Lou explains a bit about the Ducati that they’re looking at. Daphne takes it all in, her eyes squinting as Lou points out the features. She even walks around checking out the rest of the garage while Lou haggles with the dealer. The bike’s in good condition, but the price is a bit steep. Sure, she’s got more money than she knows what to do with, but it’s the principle of the thing.

She ends up telling the guy she’ll get back to him and she and Daphne head back to New York City. When they get back to Lou’s place, Daphne follows Lou inside, leaving her helmet on the first open table surface that she finds.

Lou pulls out two beers from the fridge and hands one to Daphne.

“Daphne,” Lou says, after she’s taken a deep pull from the bottle. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’m not here for fucking book club,” Daphne says and her gaze is all challenge.

“Is that so?” Lou says and puts down her beer before taking a step closer to Daphne.

“Yes,” Daphne says, her chin up and an eyebrow raised in invitation.

Lou doesn’t respond to that, just cups Daphne’s cheek and tries not to feel triumphant about the way that Daphne shivers at the touch.

She kisses Daphne and Daphne opens up easily underneath Lou, her arms coming up to pull Lou closer. Lou lets instinct take over, orienting her body around Daphne’s and drinking in each little sigh and moan. For all of Daphne’s flaws, she kisses like she was born to it, strong lips that echo Lou’s own and Lou sinks into it. When they pull apart, Daphne is panting which makes Lou smile.

“What are you laughing at?” Daphne asks.

“Just thinking that it’s a shame you’re not here for book club,” Lou says as nonchalantly as she can muster. “I’ve got some great fucking books in my room.” 

Daphne tries to repress a smile at that and utterly fails. “I suppose I can be persuaded,” she says loftily and then lets Lou do just that.

 

 

 

Daphne apparently doesn’t have much else going on because she keeps showing up at Lou’s place and letting Lou fuck her. She’s more innovative than Lou gives her credit. They manage to find several very interesting uses for the 3D printing machine, one of which leaves even Lou blushing when Debbie asks what Lou’s been using the machine for.

It's a lot more fun than Lou would have pegged Daphne for. Aside from the great sex, Daphne’s also got a wicked sense of humor once she’s relaxed enough to forget that normal circus that her life revolves around.

She drags Lou to a couple trendy places before she catches on that Lou really doesn’t give a shit. Lou would take a good hole-in-the-wall over one of those posh places with piss that they call beer and food that’s trying too hard to actually be good.  Sometimes she’ll let Lou take her to actually good places, but more often than not, they end up back at Lou’s place where she whips up something for the two of them.

For all that Daphne’s around, Debbie doesn’t seem to take notice of her until she comes back early from a weekend holiday to find Lou and Daphne sitting in their underwear, eating pancakes that Lou cooked.

Debbie starts to say something, stops, thinks, opens her mouth again, stops, and then squints at the two of them. Lou’s pretty sure that aside from the initial shock of it, Debbie’s both impressed with Lou’s continual ability to pick up and calculating how she can best use this to her advantage. She raises an eyebrow of congratulations to Lou. Lou picks up her glass of orange juice and toasts her back.

“I’m, uh, just going to go to my room,” Debbie says and nods once at Daphne. “I’ll see you later, ladies.”

Daphne watches Debbie leave the room, her face turned in Debbie’s direction even after her door is closed. Lou’s back to her pancakes—they’re not going to keep warm forever.

“Is it weird that she knows?” Daphne says.

“Debbie once had to come get me from a very wild sex party in a dungeon in Berlin. Berlin, mind you, not some prudish place like New York where people get upset over breastfeeding. This isn’t even on her slightly phased scale. But,” Lou reflects, “if taboo behavior is what gets you off, we can pretend that she’s very upset with you.”

“No,” Daphne says slowly. “It’s just that she’s so cool about it. It’s nice.” She sounds a little envious. Maybe she really does need some female friends. Before Lou can think it out, Daphne puts down her silverware with a loud clang. “Although, I have been very rude, sitting out in public where anyone could see us, with just my underwear on. I think that I should be punished.”

Lou suppresses a grin and puts down her silverware as well. “Yes, well, you have been very naughty. We’ll have to do something about that.”

 

 

Things continue on in this pattern for a few weeks until Lou starts getting some itchy feet. There’s nothing big on the horizon so Lou pulls out the box of fake scratch off cards and starts thinking about what she should do with them.

She’s still sifting through them when Daphne shows up. “Hey Daph,” Lou says, distractedly. There’s probably about two thousand cards in the box, pretty good quality. It wouldn’t be that hard to get more made.

“Hey, what’s this?” Daphne says. She sinks into a chair at the table and sorts through the cards in front of her. All of a sudden, her eyes light up. “Is this another con?”

 “Not really, just a small one. I’ll sell these in small batches, make a few thousand here and there.”

Daphne’s face drops so fast it’s laughable. “That’s it?” she says.

“Yeah,” Lou says and then imitates Daphne’s accent. “That’s it.”

“But that’s so little,” Daphne says and she wrinkles her nose in confusion.

Lou rolls her eyes. “Daphne, what do you think I normally do? I water down well drinks and sell them. I run small gaming rings.”

“Aren’t you guys going to do anymore big cons?” Daphne asks.

Lou shrugs. “Probably. Debbie’s got that look in her eye that means business. Well, business for her, trouble for me.”

“Why does Debbie always come up with all the plans?” Daphne says and Lou gives her a sharp look.

“That’s how it works between us,” Lou says. There’s a note of caution in her voice but Daphne steps right over without even seeing it.

“So, you let Debbie be the brains?” Daphne asks. Lou grits her teeth. “Doesn’t that get old for you? Don’t you want to come up with good stuff on your own? Instead of just running lame cons that are barely enough to pay for a few good drinks?”

“This is not your business,” Lou says.

“I mean, you were practically just laying around, waiting for Debbie to finally get out of prison,” Daphne says. “Doesn’t that get old? Why does your life have to revolve around her plans?”

And that’s it. Lou’s patience has run out. “Daphne, I am only going to say this once,” Lou says. “I would die for Debbie. She would die for me. We have been through things together that you would never understand. She has been at my side through the worst parts of my life. So, you have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“But,” Daphne starts.

“I’m leaving,” Lou says. “When I get back, please be gone.” She stands up from the table and grabs her helmet and keys on the way out. Daphne sits there in silence, but Lou doesn’t look back, just lets the door slam closed behind her.

 

 

Daphne isn’t there when Lou gets back, several hours later.

 

 

After a week, Debbie tilts her head at Lou. “It’s been pretty quiet lately,” she says.

Lou makes a non-committal noise as she pokes around with the coffee machine.

“Nothing to do with this?” Debbie lifts up an envelope with Lou’s name on it. She hands it over to Lou and Lou can immediately tell that Daphne’s key is inside. There’s a painful wrench inside Lou’s chest that she ignores.  

“Daphne finally realized that she was punching above her weight?” Debbie asks, her tone playful, although Lou can read the real question underneath it.

“Something like that,” Lou says vaguely.

“Hm,” Debbie says. She keeps watching Lou and Lou stares back until Debbie raises her hands in surrender. “Well, don’t think that she’s off our list just because you’re going to get pissy about it.”

That gets a laugh out of Lou, dry as it is. “It took you five years to come up with your last con,” Lou says. “Come talk to me about personnel in another four years and six months.”

Debbie considers that and inclines her head in count of the hit.

 

 

It’s good that Daphne’s gone. Really good, or at least that’s what Lou keeps reminding herself. No Daphne to talk about how upset she was over some inane imaginary slight by a fellow actor. Or why Lou absolutely had to go check out this trendy speakeasy that Daphne had managed to snag a coveted reservation at. No Daphne to look impressed as Lou explained each component of a motorcycle engine. And especially no hands skimming down Lou almost reverentially, as if Lou was some necklace of flawless diamonds instead of an old and washed up conman.

Without Daphne around, Lou finally has time for all the things that she’d been putting off. She purchases that Ducati that she’d been eyeing and begins to fix it up. She also sells the scratch offs to three dealers in New Jersey, Ohio and Pennsylvania and thinks about expanding out.  She even lets Debbie drag her out to some poncy brunch places even though Lou’d had to put up with Debbie being all, “Aren’t these eggs benedict amazing?” every five seconds. They had been, but that was aside from the point.

But, it’s just…there’s only so much she can tinker with her bikes. And Debbie is incredibly pretentious at meals, which Lou makes sure to tell her early and often. The scratch cards don’t even get her much farther, because in the middle of sending out the second shipment to a dealer in Ohio, Lou realizes that selling the scratch offs is horribly, horribly boring.

That’s the worst part of it—Daphne wasn’t exactly right, but Lou’s achingly aware of just how low her previous ambitions had been.

And then, unexpectedly, Lou comes home to find Daphne waiting outside the door

 

 

“Hey Lou,” Daphne says and for a moment, she’s all courage, and then it falters because she looks down and subtly investigates her nails.

“Daphne,” Lou acknowledges.

“I’ve come by to return this,” Daphne says. She holds out a small key.

Lou raises an eyebrow. “A backup key. Smart. Why are you returning it now?”

Daphne does a half shrug. “I’m leaving—for a little bit. There’s a movie that I’ve been wanting to direct. Funding just fell into place.”

Lou raises both of her eyebrows at that. “Just fell into place?” she asks.

Daphne smiles, a wicked conspiratorial thing, and Lou can’t help but smile back. “Out of nowhere, really,” she says. “Some mysterious holding company out of the Balkans.”

“Sounds like they’ve picked a good director,” Lou says.

Daphne shrugs and Lou picks up on the clear undertone of nervousness. “Well, it’ll be my first time directing.”

Before Lou can stop herself, she says. “You’re going to be fine.” And it comes out almost fond, which is mortifying.

“Thanks, Lou,” Daphne says and she reaches over with the key. Lou automatically opens her palm so that Daphne can drop it in. They stand there, suspended in the moment until Daphne’s phone chimes. “I’ve got to go, but, if you’re in the area, my door is always open.”

And then Daphne turns and walks away. Lou’s got to give her credit—it’s a great exit.

 

Lou makes it another week before she admits to herself that she viciously misses Daphne, self-absorption and all. The thought is depressing enough (how did Lou get attached to her??) that Lou breaks out a bottle of her good scotch and pours herself a drink. 

 “Woah,” Debbie says when she gets home that night. Somehow, Lou’s managed to turn one drink into half a bottle of scotch and she’s fighting a losing battle against gravity and the kitchen table. “Big night for you.”

Lou lifts her head up and takes a swig straight from the bottle.

“Very classy,” Debbie says. “Maybe you should continue your evening on a softer surface. Like the couch or maybe even your bed.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Lou says, but she lets Debbie maneuver her up.

 

The next morning is hell on earth. “Bugger,” Lou says when she finally can’t ignore the pounding in her head any longer. “I wish I were dead.”

“No, you don’t,” Debbie says from somewhere nearby. Lou pushes herself up and leans over the couch. Even that feels like a herculean effort and she gives herself a few moments to push back the urge to dry heave before she opens her eyes to see Debbie sitting at the kitchen table, nonchalantly drinking a cappuccino.

“Go fuck yourself,” Lou says weakly.

“Right back at you,” Debbie says, without looking up. After a long moment where Lou contemplates just letting her body decay on the couch forever, Debbie sighs. She hands back her cappuccino to Lou who tentatively takes a sip and then lets out a sigh of her own.  

“Not that I imagine that this has anything to do with you going head to head in a competition with a bottle of Octomore,” Debbie says conversationally. “But, I hear that Daphne is filming a new movie.”

Lou glares at Debbie.

“They’re filming out in California, in Los Angeles,” Debbie says. “And I need someone to let her know about the next con.”

Lou thinks it over. Debbie reaches out a hand and Lou puts the cup in it. “I have been thinking about taking a trip on my new bike,” Lou says thoughtfully.

Debbie finishes off the coffee and turns back the magazine in front of her.

“Sounds good,” she says.

 

Lou doesn’t head straight for California—she meanders through the Midwest, cuts through Colorado and Utah into Nevada and then, finally, California before cutting down Pacific Coast Highway to get to Los Angeles. Debbie’s texted her a single address with no explanation which leads to one of Warner Bros’s soundstages out in Burbank.

When Lou walks onto the set, it takes a moment for Daphne to see her, Daphne’s eyes going wide with surprise. But Daphne keeps her cool and waits until the cut has been called before loudly announcing a twenty-minute break to the crew.

“You,” she says imperiously, gesturing at Lou. A series of nervous PAs point at themselves and Daphne rolls her eyes and says again, “You.”

“Yes, Ms. Kluger,” Lou says, her accent so crisp it would make the queen look shabby. Daphne strides up to Lou, her face serious. Daphne glances down at Lou’s ID card and isn’t quite able to repress a smile.

“I’d like to see you in my trailer to discuss the catering,” Daphne says. “It’s very important.”

“Absolutely,” Lou agrees and tries to look properly chagrined as they make their way through the mess of actors, gaffers, designers, stunt coordinators, assistant directors and god knows who else.

The trailer door has barely closed behind them when Lou finds herself pressed up against the wall. Daphne’s grin is blinding and Lou can’t wait to kiss it right off.

“So how do you feel about the Tower of London,” Lou says. “Feel like flexing through criminal muscles?  
 Daphne tips her head back and laughs.

“Shut up, Lou,” Daphne says fondly and then she leans in to kiss Lou.


End file.
